Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1926)

The Sketchbook 23 jour at his hand. Then, "The ladies," he lied cheerfully, "won't dine with me." "Apple sauce," I retorted, using one of the smart new slang phrases that has heen popular in Hollywood ever since Gloria Swanson swore she would have eight children. "Really," he insisted, "some of them won't speak to me." "Really?" I inquired. This was interesting. "Oh, it's quite sad in a way. You see, the young lady who dined last with me expressed a desire to see my laboratory, where I putter around with my radio and chemicals. I said I should be delighted to show it to her. She said, 'Oh, Mr. Frazer, do you think it would be perfectly proper for me to come alone?' I said, 'Certainly not!' She never spoke to me again. I'm always saying things like that." That, dear reader, I consider a masterpiece. There may have been more perfect repartee, but I doubt it. Well, that's Bob's story of why he dines alone. I don't think it is the real reason. I think he is a man who prefers his own society to the surface nothingness of people who don't interest him. I have friends who know Bob pretty well. They tell me that there is nothing he enjoys so much as fooling around his lab. He also does a great deal of writing — poetry, philosophy, short stories — not for publication but for his own amusement. I had heard he had written a piece of Oriental philosophy that was very lovely. When I said I should love to see it, he told me he would love for me to. But I know I never shall. He recites little nonsense poems to the ladies, and keeps his beliefs, his creeds, and as much of his life as possible, to himself. Anyway, even if he does dine alone, he is the most delightful luncheon companion you can think of. Mr. Barrymore and Mr. Gilbert. I hope I'm not getting to be a pest about John Gilbert. But the other day, I heard a famous comedian make a very interesting comparison between the art that is Barrymore's and the art that is Gilbert's. He said: 'Whenever I see Barrymore on the screen, I can never lose sight of the fact that he is an artist giving a magnificent performance ; but when I live through the experiences of that boy in 'The Big Parade,' or of Danilo in 'The Merry Widow,' I cannot reconcile myself to the fact that they are merely roles created by an actor." Which is just the way I feel about it myself, only I hadn't thought of it before. Colleen, the Unconquerable. In writing of Colleen Moore it is hard to keep "The Star Spangled Banner" efficiency mottoes like, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again," and other pep slogans, from creeping into type. I admire other stars who have scaled the heights and found cushions on mountaintops. But my appreciation of Colleen goes much deeper than admiration. I have the greatest respect for her picture attainments. For if ever an actress has crashed through the lines in the face of handicaps, it is Colleen Moore. I remember some pictures Colleen made when she was what you might call an "ingenue proper." She was clever and talented, but her chances for big success were no brighter than those of a hundred other girls prevalent at the time. She vaunted no great sex appeal. Her beauty was neither exotic nor erotic. She was an ingenue in a day of sophisticates. Seemingly, everything in Determination seems to be the her case was faced the wrong underlying cause of Colleen way. [Continued on page 111] Moore's success. Photo by Russell Ball